


Magic doesn't compensate for stupidity

by Artemis042



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, F/F, F/M, Humor, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm just vibing, M/M, Memes, Self-Indulgent, featuring an incredible amount of dick jokes, it's gonna be unreadable in like 5 years, so much memes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25187569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis042/pseuds/Artemis042
Summary: Dave Strider is a Hunter in a Big City. All is well, as much as well can be when one is confronted with the supernatural on a daily basis.Until one of the other Hunter Agency of the city burned to the ground and cohabitation is forced upon them.Will they be able to catch the culprit? Will Rose successfully psychoanalyse them all to the bone? Will Dave finally find love? or will they just keep being stupid?
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, idk yet - Relationship
Kudos: 11





	Magic doesn't compensate for stupidity

**Author's Note:**

> Hi welcome to my realm  
> I'm like to say again if you didn't read the tag, that this fic is here for humorous purposes. Nothing is serious. Everything is made to laugh.  
> Also obligatory english is not my first language  
> Have fun!!

_"T wo truck having sex_

_ Two trucks having sex _

_ My muscles, my muscles _

_ Involuntary flex" _

Lemon Demon, Two trucks

Your name is Dave Strider.  
And you could affirm with total accuracy that you were royally fucked.  
Not in the literal sense, as much as your thirsty little bi ass wish you were, but in the most, neck-deep-in-shit metaphorical sense out there.

Yep, life was fucking you senseless in the back of a shitty pick-up truck, doggy style without lube and with a highly debatable notion of consent.

Life was fucking whore, and an overpriced one at that.  
  
… You feel like the metaphor had escaped you a little there. Point being: fuck life.

But like.

Not literally.

You now understood why John keeps telling you you needed a significant other.

But John could go fuck himself with a rusty chainsaw.

Anyway, back to the problem at hand.

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are a Hunter.

Or a soon to be ex hunter if you don’t get your shit together and kill that fucking rabid, power-hungry succubus that’s chasing your white ass before he uses you as his personal energy supplier.

You honestly wonder why John “not a homosexual” Egbert wasn’t the one being stuck with the male succubus as logic and common sense would dictate it but then you remembered that it was because your friend hated you and because he had a date with that creepy spider lady.

Honestly, that gal was sending shivers running down your spine. Well at least her QPP was cool if a little (a lot) chaotic.

Claws the size of a motherfucking watermelon swiped at your gasmask, or at least tried thanks to your lightning-fast reflexes. You admit that is was a weird-ass comparison but you just almost got clawed in the money maker so you were allowed let your braincells go wild for a second.

God, you really fucking hated sex demons. As if the fucking pheromones and attraction magic weren’t enough some kinda fucked up satan decided to also give them sharp teeth and giant claws.

Which would usually be a major turn on if you weren't busy trying not to die but well sometimes you needed to think with your brain and not your dick. Rose thinks that this “sometimes” should cover all the time, but Rose could go fuck herself with her edition of the complete work of Lovecraft.

The Succubus tried to take a sweep at your face again as you dodged, and a smooth move your bro would have been proud of, you grabbed his arm and rammed your knee into his stomach. Very sexy of you, you think, as a good ol’ crack lets you know you also got an extra rib in the deal.

You also break he wrist in the process so he would stop trying to take your eyes out but he managed to knock his elbow in your face, knocking over your gas mask.  
You staggered away, covering your mouth and nose the best you could, but you could already smell the sickly sweet fumes and your vision was starting to darken.

FUCK.

He used this distraction to throw you against the nearest wall so hard you swear you went to hell for a split second and spit in Satan's face. Which is kinda what the fuck because you all know that if you were going to hell you'd ask the big guy if he was dtf like any normal being with tastes would.

You were thinking over some very cool last words when a deafening…

  
Well, you wished it was deafening honestly because a lame little “thwump” wasn't nearly as cool as a gunshot nor as dramatic but eh who are you to complain.

…When a weak ass thwump sound echoed in the night and the succubus was suddenly looking cross-eyed at the brightly coloured dart between his eyes with surprise and collapse in a disappointingly underwhelming fashion.

“Oh my fucking god Jade I love you so much,” you blurted out in a still very cool fashion fuck you very much.

The werewolf emerged from a bush, giggling, her shotgun lazily flung across her shoulders. You worshipped that girl (platonically).

“Bless your little demisexual ass” you wheezed out. “Bless your perfect, perky little demiace butt. Bless you and whatever god brought you on this cursed land of pain and cruelty. This bitch of a world doesn't deserve you.”

“Stop writing poetry about my butt Dave!! We have to get that bad bitch back home fuckass”

You gasped dramatically, bringing a hand to your chest. Thank fuck with the fucker unconscious the air had started to clear out.

“This is betrayal Harley. I thought we had something. I invited you to my sweet 16th birthday pool party.”

She rolled her eyes good-heartedly, with a grin that could make the worse man on earth weep tears of pure joy, and helped you up on your feet.

“Nothing broken?” she asked, already sniffing you over.

“Nope but it’s going to leave one hell of a bruise.”

“As all good lovers do! Now, let’s tie up that bad boy and get out of here.”

You choked on your saliva, trying to deal with the amount of psychic damage hearing sweet, innocent Jade make a dick joke as she tied up the bastard.

Task you’ve not ben allowed to do since that time 3 months ago you made one too much bdsm joke and accidentally send IT’s creepy cousin in a fit of holy rage.

You’ll never piss off a berserker ever again.

You can still hear the honk in your nightmares.

You felt no little amount of glee as you threw the bastard at the back of your car, mouth tapped, and dropped on your own seat. God that felt good.

You still had to call your boss though, which you immediately do.

“Hey Spades how you doin’? Finally got down and dirty with Mrs Paint? After all those years you ought to do something about it before someone else tries to snatch her away or she gets bored. Or both to be honest.”

“Cut the chase Strider, got the succubus?”

“Such a warm hello from you boss I am touched. There’s tear on my face, so much that could fill an entire barrel and send it to children in Africa, enough to water their crops for an entire year and with that sun its a Whole Fucking Lot. I have enough tear to quench the thirst of fucking _Cronus_ man.”

“Shut the fuck up. Did. You. Get. The succubus.”

“I’m hurt boss I really am. Of course we got him. A Strider never disappoint”

You winked, even though you are wearing your shades and he, of course, couldn't see you through the phone.

It was the thought that counted.

“Okay good. Get him here as fast as you can we have whatever is the demon equivalent of a police officer with us here to take that bitch away.”

On god.

Well, you better hurry and cross your finger it’s one of the hot ones.

With your luck, it’ll be the one that lectures you about your own goddamn job and somehow managed to derail into talking about something that had nothing to do with the topic for a solid half an hour. You never absconded so quickly in your life before. You saw a new, horrible side of hell that day, and you had chill even _remembering_ that day.

Anyway.

You had to hurry up befo-

Oh god no.

Jade got the driver seat.

Oh god oh fuck.

“Hey Jade how about you let me drive?”

“Don’t be silly Dave you just got thrown around, you need to rest!”

“Aww thanks but really let me drive. Please.”

“Nope!!” She replied cheerfully before starting the car with a firm and decisive look on her face.

God help us all.

Well, you though as she absolutely floored that speed pedal, you should text the mayor you loved him.

He replied with a lil diamond. He’s adorable. You won the QPP (or moirail or whatever the fuck it was called these days) lottery the day you asked him to be your platonic husband.

You feel so fueled with friendly adoration that you could almost forget the way Harley was speeding and how if there’s a police officer anywhere near you’re fucking screwed. And, of course, that you will die in excruciating pain.

You think that maybe at this point you should explain your profession so readers can actually understand the situations and shenanigans you’re about to put yourself through in the name of money and not being fired but you are not Deadpool and do not have the ability to be aware of the 4th wall.

You wonder what the fuck you’re thinking about and what the FUCK was that. The answer is probably not worth it.

You wanted to Explain and who were you to not act upon every single impulse that crosses your pea brain.

So, you are a Hunter. Despite the name, you do not go in the forest shooting bamby mothers left and right. But as the name implied in slightly less outdated pop culture, you hunt supernatural beings. But contrary to what it might implied, you don’t just go out and kill every Not Human Nor Animal being in sight because you got some MORALS and also because they’re hot, not gonna lie.

You are more of a Supernatural Police but apparently that name was less cool so.

Your job is to help supernaturals to blend in with human society and hunt down rogue beings that whose power went to their heads. You are one of the few humans that actually know that some shady shit is going down, as it is a family occupation.

The Striders and the Lalondes were very well known names in the field. But then again there were very few humans having an actual access to magic so for a Whole family to be able to use was kind of a big deal.

You yourself got some cool Knight of Time time travelling powers.

Oh look your torture is ending, you’re almost at the agency! Time fly so fast when you’re doing a very convenient rant for the author to not have to write about some boring ass car ride where nothing notable happened except for Jade’s terrible driving.

The fuck was that it happened again.

Anyway you’re still wearing the gasmask because you’re not an idiot which was absolutely a needed addition. Jade isn’t but it’s not an actual issue because she just straight up wasn’t affected. Lucky bitch.

She ends up being the one to dose the fucker in scent blockers. You cringe at the thought of having to clean up the inside of your car again.

You haul the bastard on your shoulder. God, he was heavy what the FUCK did he have for breakfast. Or who. Eh, same thing, which you tried to Not Think About because you’re still nauseous.

You greeted Ms Paint, because the lady was adorable and also because you’re a well-behaved motherfucker, and she greeted you back, not even flinching at the sight of the bound, unconscious body across your shoulders. Slick made the right move to buy the entire building for the agency that would have been,,,, difficult to explain to the other tenants. Actually, all your shenanigans would be difficult to explain to other tenants, like “sorry about the screaming miss we’re trying a level 4 containment ritual for a Djinn and it’s not working very well sorry again please don’t call the police”.

Even if she DID call the police you’re licenced so you wouldn’t be in much trouble anyway, maybe getting like, a noise complain fee or something and then having to cover it up because the general public cannot know.

And Slick would be on your ass faster than a seasoned porn star and that’s not something you want. That’s not something anyone would want, except maybe Ms paint but you all knew they got Something going on but they’re both too scared to do anything about it.

You idly wondered how the fuck y’all managed to stay hidden for so long and still do because as much as you are competent, god knows you were all as subtle as a lesbian flirting on tiktok .

But then you greet one of your friend and intern, a Korean lizardkind, who waved at you as they erase their perfect glamour, dark chocolate skin turning into scales and blond hair rippled away gently to leave their natural silver being, and you wonder no more.

That shit freaky, if dope as fuck.

Anyway, you better go, you don’t want to make Slick wait.

He gets annoyed, and you also really wanted to get the succubus out the way.

You dramatically kicked the door of his office open, as one should always do when having a flair for drama. Or being gay. To be honest both were usually overlapping especially when it came to your own ironic shenanigans.

But you were the Superior Gay, you put the Bi in both Bitch and Flambioyant. The typo is here on purpose because you’re not a straight and the only thing you can correctly spell is “dick” and even that was a shaky thing. Then again if you can’t butcher words more than Roxy, who was the queen of the pans, but your finger guns were objectively better than hers and she didn’t even own a leather jacket so who was the real winner here.

Apparently those internal musing translated into reality by you staring at nothing in Slick’s general direction and not saying shit which was in insight kind of creepy. If a dude opened violently your door and stared at you in silence with an unconscious man on their back you’d probably piss yourself a little and then never tell anyone.

Anyway. Back to Jade burying her elbow in your ribs. Which is something that is indeed happening, and quite violently one could say.

And you do, you do say it, and loudly.

Slick facepalmed, and with both hands, which you take as a win. A testament of how cool you are, if you will, which you do. You admit that the previous sentence sounded fucking weird even in your own head but you know what? You’re at peace with that.

Maybe you should say something.

But Spade beats you to it because he takes none of your shit, or anyone’s shit really. God, you admired that dude, even if you never will admit it. Someone had to keep him on his toes.

“I see you brought back the rogue. About fucking time. I see you both have all your limbs and nobody’s bleeding.”

“Thank you boss we do try,” you say with a wink he couldn’t see behind the shades.

You actually don’t. All of this is pure, unbidden talent.

(That’s what you tell everybody. God forbid you actually appear like a hard worker, any kind of functioning member of society or more generally anything other than a Hot Mess **™**. But you do work hard, those abs didn't make themselves.)

Casey bubbled under the table and you tried really hard not to jump in surprise like a little bitch.

Wait did John really left Slick babysit Casey. What the fuck.

You drop the guy on the couch. Why did Slick have a couch in his office? You do not know, but it's cool as fuck and you have a place to rest your sweet sweet ass. In insight, it’s probably the reason it’s here. So people can seat during the mission debriefs.

Well, you never pretended to have a functioning braincell. Your twin stole those in the womb.

“God I’m absolutely spent,” you sighed, and dropped yourself on top of the guy. He deserved it and you were tired (an unfortunate side effect of being thrown against a wall).

“Yeah you look like shit.” Jade casually say, already starting to fill out the forms.

“Yeah you do. Good job, good results blah blah blah your pay should be in the mail by next week. You can leave once we handed the demon to the people that can actually contain him.”

“Thank fucking GOD.” You groaned.

You couldn’t wait for that nap.

Turned out the demon police officer they send was Terezi, which prompted you to stay an extra half an hour to chit chat and try to get her to not lick the poor Casey and your poor lizard friend, which was being badly flirted with by a Mothman while staying incredibly dense. You kinda felt bad for that Mothman. Lanque was a cool dude and you were good friend with his kismesis Mallek.

You inevitably failed to keep your dragon friend in check and poor poor Jimin (you call them kpop boi to their face, even after explaining that none of you could pronounce their name and so they had to improvise but you can call them Astari too) got a face full of teal spit and was weirdly at peace about it. But it looked more like the kind of peace born of habit and acceptance rather than actual chill. You felt weirdly admirative.

But god you just wanted to go home to your mayor’s little stick arms and your bed. So you make your goodbye, pat Lanque on the back with understanding (you did try to flirt with that lizard before and it went about as well as one could expect from a person as dense as the fucking mount Everest), escorted Terezi out, greeted a ghost you never met before named Aradia who drove her here (which was actually very fucking logical but like... how does she even hold the steering wheel with those ghostly hands???) and went the fuck home.

God that was a long list now that you think of it. Which you don’t do often, you lost your only braincell in the war against your own salacious sense of humour (and rose’s analysis of your numerous Freudian slips) and hasn’t seen it since. That fact made the matter of thinking quite complicated and holy shit you sounded like Rose. Quick, think something stupid to compensate.

…

Stupid thoughts only come to you when you’re not thinking about thinking them apparently. That’s kind of whack. You should be able to think stupid shit on command what the fuck brain (you don’t actually own one of those but it’s all semantic).

You think you deserve to be able to think shitty thoughts on command. And your usual amount of shit, nothing less. God really nerfed you on this one. That’s one point to add to the “why I’m going to beat God up behind a Denny’s at 3 am”, the first being, of course, the sheer challenge and chaotic energy of making that list at all.

The second point being that Dirk dared you to do it.

He knew you would have too much power so Her nerfed you with Adhd and brain stage fright. Not actual stage fright, of course, you were amazing on a stage.

… You don’t remember how you got there. Not unusual but what the fuck.

Anyway, you got a nap sweet-talking into your ear and your platonic husband to complain to while he pats amicably your head with his adorable little hands. Damn you were living the life.

Only to be awakened later in the middle of the night by your phone ringing.

“Dave Strider how can I help you,” you yawned sleepily, already in Pain.

“ _Strider get your ass up there it's a fucking emergency. Alternia is on fucking fire.”_

Well, there goes your sleep.


End file.
